Run Wild
by EmilieHenderson99
Summary: I expected him to hit me or shove me into a locker, but instead he mumbled some things under his breath and trudged off into the crowd of people at the other end of the hallway. Instead of following, I walked in the opposite direction of everyone else; something I did on a daily basis anyways. No Slash, T For Possible Language. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**I'm in dire need of another summer fanfic like I had "I'll Be There" last year, sooo...here ya go :) **

_Run wild and never look back, never look back no hesitating; stand up and don't shut up, tonight is what we make it, make it._

When do people stop believing? When do they lose hope and their sense of imagination? When do they decide to give up on their dreams and become content with how the world is? Why don't they try to challenge things that are proven or work at making perfection even better than it already is? But most importantly...why is everyone's the same?

I swear; I'll go out to the store and everyone's dressed the same. They talk the same and think the same. They walk the same way and share the same mannerisms. It's like being surrounded by clones and I stand out immensely in situations like that. The "norm" around here certainly isn't skinny jeans and sweater vests. School's even worse, though...

Don't get me wrong; I love to be noticed and I live for moments where I can show everyone how different I am, but at the same time, it is rather annoying to be the only one there who loves art more than he loves sports and actually cares about his grades. You'd think I'd get bullied for this and...you're 100% right.

Funny thing is, almost all of the teasing is done behind my back. It seems like my peers are afraid of me even when I'm half the size of all of them. I guess it's not every day that you see someone so charismatic walking around the building. It puts them off...they're just so terrified of change, aren't they? Of course. That's why I do it.

I mean, yeah...being artsy and colourful is definitely who I am, but I do tend to play it up a bit when I'm around others. I wouldn't walk around my house with paint splatters all over my face and clothing, but I'd totally go to class like that. I _want _others to know that I stayed up all night the day before to finish a painting, I _need _them to know that I can care less about how they feel towards that too.

"Um...hello?" I heard a voice vaguely from behind where I was sitting, "Mr. Mitchell!" She yelled in her squeaky tone.

"Oh gosh." My eyes grew wider as I glanced around the classroom, being completely lost.

The other students snickered at me.

"Daydreaming again, are we, Logan?" A guy wearing a red sweatshirt teased.

I rolled my eyes and directed my attention back to the teacher. I was hoping she'd tell him off, but instead she stomped over to the board and grabbed a piece of green chalk, dragging it over the dark coloured surface causing a loud squeak to blare and blister everyone's ears, including mine.

Just when I thought I couldn't hear an even worse noise, she started yelling and pointing at what she had written. In big letters it read "IT'S NOT SUMMER YET, BOYS AND GIRLS!"

"Isn't the last day of school like tomorrow or something?" I asked.

But this time, she slammed her hands down on her desk and groaned, "DID I ASK YOU?! JUST BECAUSE TOMORROW IS THE LAST DAY, THAT DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU CAN START SLACKING OFF AND DAYDREAMING IN CLASS!"

I took a deep breath and stood up calmly, trying to contain how I had felt.

"So I can't daydream during class, but other kids can text and pass notes without you getting angry at them?" I questioned, "Why do you target me? That doesn't seem fair at all."

"That's different." She grumbled.

"How's it differ-"

She cut me off this time, "Mr. Mitchell...sit down and stop asking questions."

I wanted to start laughing. Of course she would single me out; as I mentioned before, I stood out, and that made me an easy target...even for teachers.

I felt a small sigh of relief when the bell rung for the end of the day shortly after her previous tantrum. I really didn't want to deal with any jerks who would have began to throw balled up paper at me for setting her off...because they would have if we didn't leave, I mean, it wouldn't have been the first time, that's for sure.

"Hey! Mitchell, wait up!" Red sweatshirt called after me. Is it bad that I was in a class with him for almost a year now and still didn't remember his name? Well, you can't blame me for not holding onto irrelevant information, right?

"Yup?" I replied, stopping and turning around.

"Why can't you just shut up?! You got Mrs. Tucker pissed off again!" He yelled.

"Are we seriously still talking about that?" I giggled, "Dude, that's the past and the past is done with. Try focusing on the now, it'll get you SO much farther in life."

"Are you telling me what to do?!" He screamed in my face.

"No." I bit my lip, "Just advising you, I suppose."

"What the?!" He was obviously startled by my articulate way of speaking.

"Are we done here? Because I can physically feel my IQ dropping the more that you talk to me." I added flatly.

I expected him to hit me or shove me into a locker, but instead he mumbled some things under his breath and trudged off into the crowd of people at the other end of the hallway. Instead of following, I walked in the opposite direction of everyone else; something I did on a daily basis anyways.

I made my way downstairs to my locker, not bothering to look up from the ground. I was practically mesmerized by my new shoes. They were originally white, but after hours of making masterpieces, they transformed into a light lavender shade, green and blue being speckled slightly across the purple undercoat. The laces tinged yellow and the rubber sole became orange.

I guess you could say that my formerly normal looking Vans were a lot like me. We leave imprints on boring places, spice up the norm, and we also both get paint everywhere. Literally. Let's just say that trying to make a "Splatter-Painting" on your front lawn, while your next door neighbour is outside mowing his grass isn't always the best idea. Okay, fine...it's _never _the best idea.

Let me just say that she deserved it, though. She sits out on her front porch every single day and just smokes...for hours upon hours. She's out there when I get on the bus at 6:30AM and she's still sat right there when I get home at 2. Sometime I wonder if she ever leaves that spot once I'm gone...or does she just stay there for the entire time? Clearly, that can't be healthy and it's also totally unfair to me. How am I supposed to go outside and enjoy the beauty of nature if it's going to smell like an ashtray 24/7?

I got off the bus that day and there she was. Puffing away and it disgusted me. In fact, this whole town was beginning to disgust me. I needed to go somewhere with more people who were like me. I just needed some change. Something different. I needed those ratty old sneakers to spice up _my_ life for a change, but alas, they only worked on others, not their owner. So I was stuck walking up the same old porch, into my same old house, to see our same old furniture, and too spot my dad on his computer writing and my mom in the kitchen cooking and my brother on his Xbox, yelling as if the games he were playing were real or something.

"Can you not?" I asked slightly annoyed.

"Logie!" My mom gushed from the other room, "Come in here and tell me about your day?"

I smiled slightly to myself. My home was like a little sanctuary to the world around me. I did have some pretty cool parents; ones who were cooking marvels, writing prodigies; the type of parents who would text you motivations messages while you're in homeroom every morning. And my brother was pretty amazing too. When he wasn't locked on his game, he was building miniature cities with various architecture sets that he had bought.

"Hi Mom." I strolled into the kitchen and leaned over the island to see what she had been cooking.

She laughed a little bit, "I hope you like Tofu, because I sort of added too much this time..."

I rolled my eyes jokingly, "You _always _add too much. Then we end up throwing it out."

"No worries. I bet Landon will eat it all and look for more too."

We both chuckled and glanced over at my very hungry brother who was now getting up and venturing into the kitchen with my dad. I beamed, I loved my little special, different family.

"Logan...we have some exciting news!" My dad began with, sitting at the table next to Landon.

"Yeah?" My eyes lit up a bit and I turned my attention to my father instantly.

"Your mother and I have been looking into different things for you to do over the summer and we found a Summer Camp For The Arts. We called yesterday and luckily they still had one open spot. It'd start tomorrow after school, if you want to begin going. It's also a sleep-away camp, so I'm not sure if you'd feel comfortable doing th-"

I interrupted, "YES! Yes a million times...YES! I really want to go! Can I please go?"

"Of course!" They both nodded and smiled.

I couldn't wipe the grin off of my face. This was exactly what I wanted and more. I could finally have friends and be around those who shared my interests. It was going to be amazing and I was sure of that. Heck, even if I hated it...it'd be far better than it is around here.

**How was it? Should I continue? **

**xoxo**

**~EMiLiE (oh my gosh, I've changed my name...again!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow :) you guys like it! Yay :D Here's a update because I'm bored and I'm also in a "write-y" mood today.**

I sat in the back of my mom and dad's car, staring out at the beautiful scenery that surrounded me. Big tall trees swayed due to the wind and their green leaves fluttered slowly to the ground and into a lake that was directly behind them.

"Maybe I'll sketch this once I get settled in later..." I thought to myself.

The sky was crystal blue and the clouds were fluffy like a rabbit's tale; which actually got me thinking that it might be fun to draw a bunny when I got to the camp as well...surprisingly, I had never drawn one of those before.

The rich colours and pretty nature began to gradually disappear and got replaced with dead grass and...well, just more dead grass, and some dirt, but even that was rare. What the heck am I? What happened to the striking water and marvellous trees. Now I was just in the middle of what looked like it was at the corner of lifeless and boredom. So much for getting inspiration for my art...and at this point _"Smokey-The-Bear" _looked pretty appealing. I mentally groaned when I could hear a banjo being played from outside the car...yes, a banjo, being strummed away like there was no tomorrow.

"I-Is this the camp?" I asked, hoping that they made a wrong turn or something.

"Yup. It's cool, isn't it?"

"No..." I sighed, "It looks so boring. How am I supposed to-"

My mother cut me off with a chuckle, "Just give it a go."

"Fine." I replied flatly, grabbing my heavy bags and getting out of the car once it had pulled to a stop.

When I placed my feet onto the crumbled rocks and gravel ground, I tripped and fell right onto my face...suitcases being flung into the air along with my phone and earbuds. I looked up to see a kid, being 15, and around my age, laughing and moseying on down to where I was as if he owned the whole place.

"Not use to this kinda town, are we?" He snickered, his southern accent being thick and present.

"No..." I shook my head and stood up carefully, putting out my arms to keep balance, "How did you figure that one out, Sherlock?" I added sarcastically.

"Well, for one...I'm in overalls and you're wearing a sweater vest and khakis. Aren't you sweating? It's like...90 degrees out."

"Yeah, well, the car was cold..." I was beginning to dislike this guy. What was his problem? And seriously...what was up with all the questions?

"Don't tell me you're Logan..." He finally said.

"Would it be bad if I were Logan?" I raised an eyebrow and waved to my parents, signalling that I was fine and they could leave now.

I started to follow this mystery guy up the long windy road. In the distance I could see a plethora of cabin-like houses and on top of it, the banjo playing got loader...and loader...and loader...

"You're my roommate." He groaned.

"Thanks, man. I feel so loved." I mumbled. Yeah, well, there goes my chance at making some friends while at this place.

"I didn't mean to upset you...I guess you're just not...what I expected." He shrugged, "I'm Kendall, by the way."

"I'm Logan...but you already knew that." I wasn't quite in the mood to get to know him at this point. I felt slightly upset with myself for letting something so small ruin what was supposed to be best day ever.

"This is our room." Kendall opened the door to one of the first cabin's to show what seemed to be a pretty basic area. There were two bunk beds and a desk shoved in the corner of the room.

"Who's that?" The shorter one asked. He was wearing a hockey helmet, and I wondered why.

"Logan." Kendall answered pretty blandly.

"Okay, why's he here?" James added.

"He's staying with us for the summer...he's the last roommate..." Kendall continued, still in a monotone voice.

"Oh, hi then! I'm Carlos!" Hockey helmet spoke up, dashing over to me and pulling me into a huge hug. Huh?

"Um...hi there..." I mumbled, nearly being choked by how tight he was.

"He's is a bit...friendly around new people." Kendall explained with a small laugh.

"I can tell." I chuckled.

"I'm James, by the way." The other between the two introduced.

"Nice to meet both of you." I finally got a chance to say once Carlos let go.

"You too." Kendall plopped onto his bed and picked up his guitar, dusting it off lightly. He made absolutely no eye contact with me...instead he just stared at the strings, plucking at them lightly.

"Don't take it personally, Logan." James told me, "Kendall's a tough person to befriend."

"Yeah, he was like this with us too." Carlos added.

I just nodded hesitantly and tried to get off the subject, "So...what are you guys here for?"

"Acting!" Carlos cheered.

"I'm a singer; you, man?" James questioned.

"Artist." I replied, "And I'm guessing Kendall's a guitarist."

"Yeah, he plays the piano too and the saxophone."

I turned to Kendall this time, being eager to get him to like me. I had this weird goal while I was here and it was to get as many people as I could to actually be happy with me for a change. It'd be nice and certainly different from school. Sadly, Kendall wasn't having it, though.

"Talented." I smiled at him. See, I was capable of being friendly.

"Thanks. I would say that you are too but...painting isn't exactly rocket science..." He whispered under his breath.

"Um, yeah and either is playing instruments!" I added in a snarky tone.

"Really now? I'd like to see you try." Kendall rolled his eyes.

"Hand it over."

"What?" Kendall's eyes grew bigger with disbelief.

"Hand it to me, I'll show you that playing guitar is easier than painting is."

Kendall sighed heavily and placed the wooden instrument into my hands. I slung the leather strap over my neck and placed my hands onto the strings, strumming and singing to myself.

"You suck." Kendall shook his head.

"Huh?" I looked up, being thrown off guard by his comment.

"Seriously...just...don't ever do that again, it's terrible." Kendall continued.

"Yeah, but he certainly can sing." James laughed, causing Carlos to nod.

"If you're gonna be a jerk then...forget it." Logan chuckled awkwardly and handed the guitar back to Kendall.

I didn't say anything after that and headed outside, grabbing my messenger bag, and checking to make sure my coloured pencils were in there.

"You do sing good, though." Kendall said quietly, as I left, but I didn't bother to turn around.

**I'll add more later; I'm on a role haha :) thanks for reading.**

**xoxo**

**~EMiLiE**


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